


Fixing Icarus' Wardrobe

by odiko_ptino



Series: Modern AU [4]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 08:51:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17019588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odiko_ptino/pseuds/odiko_ptino
Summary: Apollo has a positive effect on Icarus.





	Fixing Icarus' Wardrobe

One thing that sets Icarus apart from other humans Apollo has known, is his utter refusal to be impressed by the gods. There is no falling to his knees with this one; no awed, worshipful gazes. He wields sarcasm well and uses it frequently. 

He does not fall for their charms – or at least, Apollo has never seen any effect on him. Never. Apollo is able to make knees buckle with just one well-crafted look. He’s able to make men and women alike swoon with a single phrase. Icarus only rolls his eyes and threatens to spray the god with cold water.

It’s the same with Helios. Certainly, for all he mocks his partner/rival, Apollo can privately agree that Helios can turn on the charm when he tries. He can take all his obnoxious arrogance and turn it into a cocky, flirtatious kind of appeal, when he tries. And he is definitely trying. Trying to impress the boy with tricks, with snark and jokes and his rebellious persona, and his wild motorcycle. Icarus wavers between being politely amused and deeply annoyed. 

This indifference is possibly the source, and certainly the fuel, for this competition between the gods. It’s not as though the two of them need much incentive to set off another of their rivalries, but seducing the peevish Icarus is turning into more of an entertaining game.

(“Low stakes, this time,” says Helios, when their friends ask. “Just a little competition to see who can seduce Mop-Head first.”

“That is almost exactly how Troy happened,” Hermes points out. Helios and Apollo ignore him.)

For a while, neither of them seem to gain much ground. Helios may arguably be leading by way of being the only one who has regular physical contact with the boy, but Icarus reliably responds by trying to bat the god away. 

(Hermes has observed that they tend to sabotage their own efforts as well. Helios teases Icarus relentlessly, and occasionally his teasing has an edge of cruelty to it. Apollo, apparently, “lectures like a tenured professor on a rampage.” As though gods and mortals alike could not benefit from a few helpful tips on style and health from the embodiment of perfection in both. Apollo haughtily informs Hermes that his opinion is noted)

Apollo’s first clear victory comes unexpectedly. He and Helios are in Icarus’s apartment, waiting for the human to return from his classes. Apollo is examining the books Icarus keeps in his home. It’s a varied collection: many battered textbooks on astronomy, as expected, but also a few oddities of fiction and one clearly cherished children’s picture book, “Magic School Bus Lost in the Solar System.” Icarus’s name is written in childish block letters on the inside cover. Apollo considers the notion of an infant Icarus looking through this book, eyes wide as he read of the improbable adventures of other children exploring space in their school bus, and perhaps imagining himself among them. Apollo wonders if this is the origin of Icarus’s interest in space, and his determined goal to be the first man on the sun. He finds the idea utterly charming.

It’s at this moment that Icarus of the present-day returns, groaning when he sees the gods are there. He slouches over to his table, dragging his feet. 

Helios grins from where he’s made himself at home on the couch, and sits up. “Heya, Mop-Head! Glad you could make it!”

“It’s my apartment, Helios,” Icarus sighs, before noticing the book in Apollo’s hands. His face assumes a look of mildly embarrassed panic, and he rushes over to snatch the worn paperback away. “That’s just… a thing… uh…” 

Apollo shrugs. “It’s less inaccurate than I would have expected of a children’s book. Though not much use as an instructive manual if you were hoping to travel to space someday.” He looks Icarus over, then, taking in the human before him: Icarus’s shirt is partially untucked; shoes are untied; his sleeves are unevenly rolled; his collar is a mess; his hair is a mess. Apollo tsks.

“…More importantly, Icarus, is this how you allow yourself to look during the day, in your studies? How are you going to impress your professors if you dress like – like Helios?”

“Hey!” comes the objection from the god on the couch. Apollo’s lips twitch but he doesn’t acknowledge the other god, choosing instead to focus on Icarus. 

He begins straightening Icarus’s sleeves, tugging one down and re-rolling it to match the other.

“You should be more attentive to how you present yourself, Icarus - it’s the first impression anyone gets of you. It’s true that you’re a very clever young man, but you don’t want people to dismiss your intelligence because you’re dressed like a vagrant.”

(In his mind, he can hear “tenured professor on a rampage” in Hermes’s voice, but he nobly ignores it)

“Especially since you have such an attractive foundation. You should take more pride in your appearance, Icarus, you’re actually quite handsome.”

The collar is next. Apollo straightens and flattens it with his palms, using a small amount of the heat of the sun to press the lapels, brushing Icarus’s neck with his fingers as he does so, before moving on to the rest of the shirt. He pulls out the hem of Icarus’s shirt so that he can tuck it back in again, smoothly and properly, running his hand around Icarus’s waist, beneath the band of his pants, and it’s at that moment that he notices the hitch in Icarus’s breathing. 

He pauses for a brief moment, hand stilled against Icarus’s hips, feeling the warmth of flesh beneath the thin cotton. Icarus has frozen, staring at Apollo with a look that is very familiar to the god, though not on this particular human’s face. Eyes enormous. Heart beginning to beat faster. Skittish, but… stirred. Interested.

Apollo recovers himself and smoothly withdraws his hand, making certain to trace his fingers up over Icarus’s belly. The human’s breathing, already irregular, hiccups again and he shivers, very enticingly. Icarus’s face is beet red now, which is new. Icarus is blushing. 

Apollo passes his hands lightly over Icarus’s hair, neatening it and tucking a lock behind his ear. Finished, he then smiles at Icarus, pleased with his efforts, with the final product and with the clear effect he’s had on the boy. He touches his fingers under Icarus’s chin, tilting his face gently to a more fetching angle, rubbing a thumb over his jaw.

“Yes, very handsome, Icarus.” 

Icarus’s face goes even darker red, if possible, and his lips part slightly in a sweetly awkward half-smile before he finally unfreezes and jerks away to stumble towards his room, mumbling something nonsensical about putting his things away. There’s an embarrassed “thanks” in there, though, and the boy is almost glowing.

Apollo watches him flee into his room and then turns to bestow upon Helios, who is sulking and glowering from the doorway, the most superior and smug smirk Apollo can manage.

Lord Apollo, god of prophecy and oracles, music, song and poetry, archery, and healing: triumphantly in the lead. All as it should be.


End file.
